I Killed Her
by NicNacs
Summary: A look inside Angel's mind during the events of the episode 'Angel'


I Killed Her  
By NicNacs  
  
***  
  
Disclaimer: I can't even claim the storyline on this one, let alone the characters. If you sue me, the only thing you'll get is my student debt, so I wouldn't bother.  
  
***  
  
I killed her.  
  
I killed her, and a part of me doesn't care.  
  
Perhaps it would be easier to start at the beginning. Not the very beginning; that would take too long. The real beginning. The day my life began.  
  
It was night. Big surprise. Night is my time. It was cold, dark, and I was miserable. I had been miserable for eighty years, ever since Darla brought me a young gypsy to feed from. The curse the elders had dreamt up was shrewd. With a soul, I was destined to be tortured for the rest of my life. And for eighty years I languished.   
  
That night, all that changed.  
  
I met a demon, by the name of Whistler. I had been avoiding demons. Hell, I'd been avoiding *everybody*. I'm a monster, not fit to talk to anybody. Whistler pulled me out of my depression, and gave me a purpose. He showed me the Slayer.   
  
She was alone; she was fighting for her life.   
  
She was beautiful.   
  
From that moment, I had to protect her. And I did. She didn't know I was there at first. I hid in the shadows, fighting the vampires. They never reached her, and she was safe.   
  
And then she burned down the gym.  
  
Her mother moved them to Sunnydale, and I followed. The Hellmouth. I knew that I could no longer protect her from the shadows. In Sunnydale, I met her. She was everything I had noticed from afar, and more. I felt myself falling; falling down the steep slippery slope of Love. I was scared, and so I joked.  
  
"Truth is, I thought you'd be taller. Or bigger, muscles and all that. Pretty spry, though."  
  
I'm a two hundred year old vampire. I can fight with the best of them. And yet, a sixteen year old girl can make me weak.   
  
I'm doomed.  
  
It all came to a head a few months after that first meeting. She was attacked by the Three, and I was there. Together we fought them off long enough to get to her house. Unknowing, she invited me in, and blithely ordered me to take off my shirt so that she could clean my wounds. I wonder if she realised just how that request sounded.   
  
When she mentioned my tattoo, I nearly froze. It had been risky enough telling her my name. If she brought the tattoo up with her Watcher and he realised what it meant...  
  
Her mother wasn't fooled. I could see it in her eyes. She knew that I wasn't helping Buffy with History. There must be some kind of intuition that mothers have which tells them when their children are up to no good. But Buffy snuck me up to her room anyway. I looked around with interest, wondering what her personal possessions would be like.  
  
I'm not sure what I expected, but this wasn't it.  
  
Her room was gentle. There is no other way to describe it. She had stuffed animals, and frills, and absolutely no hint of the darker life that she leads by night. I tried to leave, thinking that I wouldn't survive a night in such close quarters with her, but she wouldn't let me.  
  
"I don't want you dead," she said, not knowing that I'm already dead.  
  
I survived the night. Just barely, but I survived. I was awake before her, so she didn't notice that I don't breathe in my sleep. I hid in her closet during the day, not because her mom came in, but to hide from the sun. I think she was surprised that I was still there. She didn't know that I couldn't leave.  
  
She knows now.  
  
When she returned that night, I should have left. I should have left as soon as the sun went down, but I wanted to see her again. It was a mistake.  
  
I tried to tell her that it could never work, that I was too old. I think I was trying to convince myself more than I was trying to convince her. I failed.  
  
When we kissed, it was the most sensual experience I've had in the past century, perhaps in my entire life. The passion flowing through our lips was indescribable. As the kiss deepened, I could feel the demon stirring inside of me. I tried to stop it, but the raw emotion in the room made it an impossible task.   
  
The demon stirred, and my love screamed.  
  
I did the only thing I could. I ran. I ran all the way home, only to find that Darla was waiting for me. Seeing Darla brought back so many memories that I would rather have forgotten. My sire. There is no stronger bond for a vampire. For a hundred years we ran together, spreading death, destruction, and panic. Years that ended with my curse.  
  
I shunned my sire, ignoring the bond we had forged.  
  
Darla wanted me to rejoin the Master, to go back to my old vampiric ways. I was tempted. It had been an easy way to live; no conscience, no soul. I wanted to go back with her, but I thought of Buffy, and I resisted her lure.  
  
I went back to Buffy's house that night. I wanted to apologise, to explain about the curse. I hoped she would understand, that the attraction I felt would be reciprocated, and she would be able to look beyond the demon.   
  
I hadn't expected Darla to be there. Feeding off her mother. She threw the unconscious woman at me, and waited for me to give in to the inevitable.  
  
The blood scent was overpowering. I wanted to feed. I felt the demon stirring, and I couldn't stop it.  
  
If Buffy hadn't arrived home, I would have given in.  
  
She threw me out.  
  
Her rejection tore my soul.  
  
Darla was waiting at my house again. She taunted me, telling me that I would never be human, so why was I trying? I heard her words, and I remembered the rejection in the Slayer's eyes. And I grew angry. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to kill everyone. But a part of me wanted to die.  
  
I waited for Buffy at the Bronze. She knew I lived near there, and I knew she would turn up. I knew she would be angry.   
  
She was.  
  
We fought. I wanted to kill and be killed.  
  
She asked me why, so I told her about the curse. I don't think she fully understood at first. I'm not sure she ever really can. To do the things that I have, and to *care*. She can't imagine half of the things I did.  
  
But she accepted it. She accepted me.  
  
She offered herself to me. I don't think she was surprised when I couldn't feed from her.  
  
We had forgotten about Darla. She was furious that I hadn't killed Buffy and returned to the Master, so she attacked. She had guns. Vampires very rarely use guns, but she did. Buffy's crossbow was useless, and Darla was winning. I should have been glad that my sire was powerful. That bond between us should have been the most important thing in my life. But it wasn't.  
  
I broke the strongest bond I had ever known, because I had found a stronger.  
  
I killed her.  
  
I killed her, and a part of me doesn't care.   
  
Buffy is my life, and Darla was threatening that life.  
  
So I killed her.  
  
  



End file.
